• (Warning: This story has a teensy bit of vague gore and has a few lighter swears, but neither is excessive. It’s the beginning of my horror story.)
    Manor Descara, 1638


    She traced her slightly calloused thumb along the edges of the book that rested peacefully on her lap. It was dusty, seeming to have not been disturbed. Its pages had the very essence of having not been flipped in much time. After all, the pages were yellowed, and crusty feeling, like all old parchment did after long periods of time have went by with it staying intact.
    No one dared to touch it, but her alone. It belonged to her, and rightfully so. She had worked oh so hard to obtain it. Her precious. Her very, very precious little book. No one could take her precious away from her, the beautiful hand-written book, which contained secrets not for those of the faint-hearted. Those who retained their innocence and youth. Well, maybe not so much youth. Was she not young herself? Barely thirty she was. Yet, she seemed so much older. She looked it too, if you ignored her younger looking body. Only the face truly showed age, as it did on her. Many feared her alone, just because of her appearance, without even having to know who she was. Or what, for that matter.

    The peaceful mood of the day wrapped around her, like a blanket. It was calming, as she continued to almost lovingly stroke the book with the tips of her thin fingers. Naturally, the book sat, resting, doing nothing. Why would it? Was it not just a simple, old book? Yet, the silence that was such a rarity was ripped to shreds with the quiet, hesitant rapping on the mahogany double doors. Quite frustrated, she placed the book, her precious, by her side on the plush couch with a grip that quivered with annoyance. After it being safe, she placed her head in her right palm, eyes narrowed in anger and frustration as she spoke.

    “Come in. This better be damn well good, though.”

    A maid. A meek one at that. She quivered, never having even seen or met her mistress before. Many of her servants rarely saw her. It was uncommon for her to see a new face. But, she was one. Her orange hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, the little chiffon and lace hat resting at the top of her head, threatening to fall off. The maid bit her lit nervously, her cast downward. A pall of sorts seemed to float around the female. It did make the woman curious though. Where were the others, the ones that didn’t annoy her by at least ACTING like she did not scare them? Of course, she knew she terrified all of them. The idea made her laugh, nearly letting a smile rise to her face. But she did let it. It’d be more fun to scare this little unsuspecting, already terrified maid.

    “Uh, y-you have a..Uhm..V-visitor, M-M-My Mistress!”

    Her gaze narrowed at the stuttered words. A visitor? This was not a good sign. Usually most of her more, preferred, visitors were courteous enough to give her some advanced warning of their visit. Of course, perhaps it was one of her messengers. They were due back soon. Well, if they weren’t dead that is. With the amount of robbers and murderers out about these days in those woods, anything was certainly possible. Yes… she thought, anything IS possible.

    The maid’s gaze became fixated on the book beside her mistress. It seemed to beckon her, calling for her to draw closer. To touch it, to open it, to read its contexts. She gasped, her throat closing briefly with fear as the air escaped her lungs. She gulped, quite loudly, her body shaking with wild convulsions. Her mistress had not yet dismissed her to leave though. Said woman, glanced at the maid, then at the book. It was giving off that demonic aura again, the one that was so tempting to touch, to open, to read. At their own stakes. Her mouth quivered into a slight smirk, but she very quickly let it fall. Soon. Soon, she’d have her fun with the maid.

    She affectionately stroked the black leather book with her index. Slowly, tauntingly almost, but also lovingly. The maid, still shaking like a frightened animal, remained locked in place. Her eyes were wide, like a wild, crazed animal, giving her a rather ridiculous expression. The woman smirked on the inside, her steely gaze re-fixating on the maid. The maid refused to meet her gaze, and in return looked at the book once more. Her mistress calmed herself on the inside, and put on a very realistic sweet smile.

    “Would you like to see it?” she tilted the book towards the maid, before holding it out, “Go ahead. Read a passage to me if you wish!”

    The woman’s voice lilted at the end of her sentence, sounding more innocent. The maid hesitated, her hand reaching out to grab it, despite the gap that was more than three yards. The maid, transfixed and pretty much hypnotized by the book’s aura that was slowly creeping towards her. Finally, at last, one slender finger touched it. With a final gasp, she wretched her hand away and leaped back. She bowed.

    “I’ll decline, Milady!” she cried.

    Her mistress sighed. The maid had broken through, having enough instincts to break away. This displeased her though. Now she wouldn’t have her fun! But, she decided to let it pass. Besides, the maid had news, did she not? Her mistress sighed once more, resting her cheek in one hand as she spoke with exasperation and frustration. Might as well make her believe that I’m displeased with her. Freaks them out all the time, she thought.

    “Who may it be this time?”

    “Uh…uhm…Lady Delfara, my mistress,” the maid’s timid voice rang out in pitter-patter of the pouring rain. Her mistress’s eyes widened and she immediately stood, clutching the leather book to her bosom. Her long, claw like fingers held it close, quivering once again. But not in annoyance. With fear. That book. The one that frightened so many, and drew so many in like moths to the light. Actually, all but two people. And the other one, aside from herself who was not afraid, was coming. Coming here. To take away the power. To restrict her. She snapped her head to the maid.

    “Leave me at this once!” she commanded sharply.

    “Ah...Y-y-yes, Mistress Liona!” With that, the maid bowed before scurrying out of there, similar to a rat. She, like all the others, was terrified to defy her mistress, especially when she was in such a state of extreme panic that was unlike her. As soon as the maid had left, the back doors boomed as they hit the walls. Both had cracks running down the length of them from where the wall had struck them. With eerie timing, the wind howled in the most cliché way as a figure, dressed in a very long flowing robe stood at the gap, her honey brown hair flowing freely with the ever persistent howling cliché wind. Her back faced the moon, shadowing her front as her long, almost ghostly looking shadow floated on the floor. Still, those eyes were alone enough to portray ever emotion she needed to towards Delfara. Her eyes were narrowed, their liquid gold color, which many could find warmth in when she was not infuriated.

    “Liona….how nice it is...To be seeing you again,” Delfara spoke, acting polite as ever, her voice sounding sickeningly sweet, yet it was traced with hints of anger, pure and raw. Her voice lost the sweetness to it, as she spoke seriously, “I’m not here for…pleasantries,” she snarled the word, before continuing, “But on business. Surely you must know why?”

    Liona stood, quivering in the same manner of that maid that she had mocked. Now, it was her turn to be frightened, scared shitless. The book was clutched to her bosom still, her arms wrapped protectively around it, attempting to comfort herself in her state of panic. It was futile though. Nothing could stop the feeling of terror, holding onto her tightly. Liona’s eyes were widened, eyes dilating. Delfara let loose a light chuckle.

    “I see you do know why I’m here, then. So, will you give it up willingly? Or shall I have to remove you of it, by force?"
    Delfara did not need to ask the question, already having known the answer since the moment she thought to ask the question. Liona stood her ground, clutching it still, half-mad from the thought of being separated from its power. It was so beautiful, the power. That sweet, sweet power. She would not be taken from it! Delfara sighed, frowning sadly when she saw Liona’s state. Her friend, at one time, had lost herself. Lost herself to madness and power. There was no saving her now. The power had driven her to insanity. Now it was time to end it all, to fix what she had done wrong. At the cost of a friend, who was not herself anymore, so corrupted.

    “I’m so sorry,” Delfara spoke, as the candles flickered out and at her feet lay a dead Liona, her body mutilated barely from recognition. Blood soaked the pure white carpeting, the remains of what was once human. Guilt overwhelmed her. If she had stopped Liona, then this never would have happened. Her friend would be what she once was. Someone better. But, she had not the heart. Delfara was so young, so naïve. How was she to know that this would happen? Still, she wished she did. Because, now…she heard the voice from within the demonic book.
    All the King’s men could not put Humpty Dumpty together again. Now it’s your turn.”
    It wasn’t until sometime later, that the same timid maid decided to face her fear and check up on her mistress, the one she once served. With a slight sob of surprise, she put her hand over her mouth as she stared at the two puddles of blood, the two piles of scraps of what was once a body, two piles that were once friends.